Have Spacecat, Will Travel: And Other Tails by John Hartness (best color ebook reader .txt) 📗

“I clean them bathrooms, Miz Carter,” he said. “I pee in there, I’m going to have to clean the toilet again before we open for the lunch rush.”

I shook my head and turned to follow Willis indoors, wondering exactly what constituted a “lunch rush” at Pole Cats.

“Coffee?” Tina called over her shoulder as we followed her into a large room that defied all comprehension of the norms of mobile homes or nightclubs. It was the size of a living room and a couple of bedrooms put together, with a normal home-sized ceiling, which made for not much of a “stage” for the dancers to work with. There was a small runway about ten feet by four feet, with a shiny brass pole at each end. It was about six inches off the floor and outlined in strands of LED rope lights.

Along the side of the room closest to the door was a fully stocked bar, with four cracked black vinyl-seated stools. In the opposite corner was a DJ booth that consisted of a folding chair behind two folding tables with a laptop computer hooked into a sound board. Orange drop cords ran from the DJ booth to various lights bolted to the ceiling throughout the room. I did not want to think about the aneurysm the county electrical inspector would have if he ever set foot in this place as anything more than a customer.

There were three small cabaret tables with a few chairs scattered around the room, and two burgundy vinyl couches that looked like they’d been rescued from a bankrupt Shoney’s against the wall perpendicular to the bar. The carpet was dark with neon patterns throughout, and the walls were painted a gray so dark as to almost be black. The entire room smelled of cheap perfume, cheaper whiskey, body odor, and bad decisions. I waved off the proffered coffee as I slid onto one of the bar stools and took my first good look at Teenie in fifteen years or more.

They hadn’t been a kind fifteen years, apparently. She was pretty, but her eyes had gone hard sometime in the past, and the set of her jaw told of a woman who had seen some things, and done some things, and they might not have always been good. “So, what’s wrong with Pete? He didn’t hit his wife, did he? She’s pregnant, you know. I like Pete, but if he laid a hand on a woman, even if it wasn’t in here, he’s banned for life.”

“He was in a car wreck last night on his way home from here. He didn’t make it,” Willis said. He was a big man, a strong, stout man with a stern demeanor and a solid build, but when he was delivering the news about a fatality he was as soft and gentle as a lamb. I don’t know if he had that same kind of empathy with people in the big city or not, but it was awful welcome here.

“Shit,” Teenie said, turning around and pulling down a Jameson’s bottle from the top shelf. She poured a slug into her coffee and tipped the neck toward Willis’s cup. He shook his head, and she screwed the cap back on, then took a long draught of her fortified drink. “Another one. Well, hell. Rest in peace, Pete. You were a good dude, and whatever happened to you, you didn’t deserve it.”

“Thanks,” Pete said from beside me. I looked at him and was surprised at the level of emotion on his face. Then I looked back at Teenie and saw that her face mirrored his.

“Were y’all…” I let the question trail off, a fishing technique I’d learned from Matlock.

“No!” Teenie said sharply. “I don’t mess around with married men. Unless the wife’s there. That’s a whole ‘nother story. But not Pete. He was faithful as could be.”

“As faithful as a man who left his pregnant wife alone to come out in the middle of the woods to watch naked women parade around for dollar bills,” I replied, and couldn’t keep the judgement out of my voice. I felt bad about that, but I couldn’t stop it.

“Topless, thank you very much,” Teenie shot back. “We don’t do full nude here. And last night was game night. Mostly everybody watched football. The girls just danced during commercials and halftime. Don’t nobody want to listen to Terry Bradshaw anyway.”

“You said ‘another one,’” Willis said. “What did you mean by that?”

Teenie looked at him, then down at her cup. “Nothing. I spoke out of turn.”

“Ms. McNaughton, I don’t even want to think about the building code violations I’m standing in the middle of, not to mention the zoning laws being broken every single night. Now I don’t care about your card game. I don’t care about the fact that your liquor bottles still have the Frugal McDougal’s stickers on them instead of a tax stamp like they’re supposed to. I don’t even care that this place looks like it’s about one bad thunderstorm from falling apart or catching fire. But if there is something strange with Mr. Smalls’s death, and you withhold that information from me… Well, let’s just say that will very quickly become something I care a great deal about.”

There was none of the gentle peace officer in his voice this time. He was the voice of authority, and it was not to be questioned. I found myself unconsciously sitting up a little straighter in my chair, and he hadn’t even aimed that thing at me.

Teenie drank down the rest of her coffee, then poured another healthy slash of Jameson’s in the mug, not bothering with the coffee this time. She took a slug of that and looked at us both. “You’re going to think it’s stupid.”

“I can’t think anything if you don’t tell me anything,” Willis said, his voice soft and coaxing again.

“I swear to you child, whatever you’re about to tell us, I’ve said stranger. You know who I am, and